This wasn’t quite how I’d imagined writing my next blog post – one-fingered, elbow cranked at an angle to work around the two drips easing various magical substances into my (I’m reliably informed) rubbish veins. Twelve straight days of puking my guts up have landed me in two Barcelona hospitals, with so far no sight of salida.

On the plus side, I’m two stones lighter and have plenty of material for my next blog post:)

Thanks to everyone for their help and good wishes over the last fortnight. I really appreciate it.

What’s a guiri?

Guiri is one of those words, like feminist or peely-wally, that I want to reclaim. Locals use it to refer to tourists - you know the ones - who stick out a million miles. No matter how long I live in Barcelona, that is always going to be me.